Criticism of Catholic Church descends into mob mentality as detractors rush to judgment
IT FELT like closure – of a kind. In a sense, Bishop Eamonn Casey had finally come home, embraced with all the powerful imagery of a requiem Mass, amid the splendour of Galway Cathedral.
In death he was bestowed with the highest honour his church could grant him. His final resting place would be the Cathedral crypt – as was the case with all his predecessors who had served as Bishop of Galway, stretching back over a century. They clearly judged it was what he deserved. Had he not always stood steadfast with his spiritual heartland, despite all that had befallen him in turbulent times?
The solemnity of an Irish Catholic funeral cast its own spell as family and friends paid their respects.
Much that was said and done, in a life now ended, no longer seemed so important. Sometimes, on such occasions, all that can be said is that the past is the past.
Meanwhile, for the Catholic Church in Ireland these recent weeks have been a time of cascading controversy. A wellspring of pent-up emotion continues to be churned by the story of the Tuam babies.
And then there was the symbolism of Bishop Casey’s death reactivating other nascent agonies, which had somehow seeped into the quietude of more distant days.
Also simmering in the background is the refusal of certain religious orders to pay what it is claimed to be their agreed share of monies, arising from historical sexual abuse.
The fact this dispute has been allowed to gather pace is surely an indication of turmoil at senior level within the Church here, which must be creeping to the very citadels of power in Rome.
Yet despite Ireland’s once most influential institution being in a state of rapid retreat, there continues to be a remarkable lack of religious willing to appear on the round of radio and television programmes delving into the latest controversies.
It is nigh impossible to find a bishop – or a nun attached to any of the religious orders – willing to really argue their case in public.
It means that more often than not, there is nobody from the Catholic frontline willing to confront some of the creeping hysteria among some of its more vociferous critics.
Much of the anger, hurt, and outrage felt by those affected by the misuse of Church power in the past is certainly more than justified.
But on occasion there is a headlong rush to condemn by its critics. It is often coupled with a search for some kind of vengeance, prompting outbursts of narrow and fixated bitterness.
There has been a tendency to rage against the entire institution, with little regard for those who have battled, in their own way, to do the right thing.
Accordingly, there is the risk of a growing mob mentality, appointing itself judge, jury, and executioner, regardless of the facts.
However, it can also be argued that the incapacity of senior clerics to fully engage in the national debate is one of the reasons many discussions on the airwaves seem so one-sided.
Indeed, this lack of candour regarding the failings of the past has also aggravated the trauma felt by those who have suffered various injustices.
But still there remains a responsibility, even among the Catholic Church’s most justifiable critics, that each accusation of wrongdoing is kept within context.
On the other hand, it must be stressed the saga surrounding the sheer evil of child abuse stands alone in its seriousness.
No effort should be spared in bringing all those involved – in however peripheral a fashion – to justice and allowing the law of the land to take its course.
But there are other issues not so clear-cut, such as the story of the Tuam babies.
Absolute condemnation of the role played by some of the nuns is clearly justified. Their actions personified a callousness and cruelty which surely ran counter to the essence of Christianity.
But the equally unpalatable truth is that what happened in that home could not have taken place without the backing of many others, ranging from parents to politicians. Their actions – or inaction – must also be examined.
And so the story of Eamonn Casey had its own final poignancy this week. Neither his son Peter, nor Annie Murphy the mother of their child, attended his funeral. Maybe too many bridges have been burned along the way. They both have paid a heavy price in what is essentially a story of heartache. Yet their names will live on in the pantheon of Irish Catholicism as players in one of its great dramas.
Eamonn Casey made his choices regardless of the emotional cost to others. He knew his chosen pathway could not be without consequence. But he stuck with what he believed to be his destiny.
So it is not unusual Mother Church would provide the comfort of its final embrace.
Deep and unfathomable are the mysteries of life, death, and religion.
‘The Church’s lack of candour about the failings of the past has also aggravated the trauma felt by victims’